


To Touch and Be Touched

by DivineVarod



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Closeted Character, Enemies to Friends, Hair Brushing, Hair drama, Helping, M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:25:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineVarod/pseuds/DivineVarod
Summary: Rimmer always wanted a "regulation haircut" and decides on drastic measurers to get one. Sadly, the result isn't exactly what he hoped for.Lister thinks he can fix it. Can he also fix Rimmer in the process?





	

When Lister stood in front of the door he heard a faint buzzing noise coming from behind it. When he shouted “Open” he immediately heard a horrified cry. He walked in to find Rimmer jumping into his bed and hiding his head underneath his pillow while an electric razor was left buzzing on the floor. He picked it up and pressed “off” all the while wondering what this was in aid of.  
  
"Lister ...?"  
  
"Yes Rimmer ..."  
  
_"Get out!!"_

* * *

  
The next time he saw Rimmer the second technician was wearing an army beret and looked utterly miserable. The Scouser noticed that even though the cap was clearly itchy the man did not take it off once as they did their shift, not even when Lister's friend made jokes at his expense.  
Once they had finished the shift and dressed for the night it was clear that Rimmer seemed intend on going to sleep wearing his new head-garb as well. Lister had known something was up ever since he'd found the electric razor and now decided to find out what it was. Satisfying his curiosity would at-least while away a few boring hours if nothing else.  
  
“Rimmer …?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What ya do to ya hair?”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
“I heard ya shave when I came in, and found the thing buzzing on the floor. Next minute you're completely attached to wearing silly berets. Admit it: Ya smegged up yer hair!”  
  
An angry nostril flair was followed by a dejected posture and hazel eyes filled with utter misery.  
  
“Oh those stupid, horrid curls. I tried everything: gel them, straighten them, iron them, hot brush … I just thought I'd try a close shave.”  
  
“I like your curls.”  
  
Rimmer looked at him incredulous.  
  
“Oh come on. No-one likes my curls. They make me look stupid, unprofessional. My parents said they're the symbol of failure. All I wanted was to have the regulation look for once.” Clearly irritated he put his hand under the beret to scratch his head. “This goiting thing itches like smeg.”  
  
“Take it of then and let me have a butchers, Rimmer.”  
  
With a tired shrug Rimmer slowly removed the itchy piece of head-wear. Seeing the damage Lister cringed: the hairline was completely asymmetrical and blotched and there was a bald spot the size of a large Dollar/Pound on the back of his head.  
  
“Smeg!”  
  
Rimmer looked at him with desperate eyes.  
  
“You see?!! It's horrid. Everyone's gonna laugh at me!!” Rimmer looked so close to tears Lister bit his tongue to stop the laughter he felt rising inside himself.  
  
“No-one's gonna laugh man. Cause … yer wearing that beret, aren't you?”  
  
Rimmer looked at the beret in his hand and shook his head.  
  
“But it itches!!" He whined. "And anyway, they'll pull that off soon enough, because they know I'm hiding something. Maybe you'll even do it!!”  
  
Lister felt insulted, why did Rimmer always think the worst of him?  
  
“Rimmer, I'm not gonna do that to ya, I swear!”  
  
Rimmer sat down, shaking his head.  
  
“You say that now … but you're different with your friends.” He put his head in his hand, his long fingers racking through his messed-up barnet. “Oh God, they're going to take pictures. They'll laugh at me forever. Big poof A.J. Rimmer trying to give himself a haircut."  
  
To his annoyance Lister felt sorry for the man in front of him. It was true; everyone on the ship saw Rimmer as the butt of jokes and … well sometimes he deserved this. But this haircut, that was bad. If the others saw him like this it would run for months, as whatever Rimmer had tried to do would not grow out so easily. He didn't deserve to be bullied more than he already was and Lister felt the urge to protect him from this. He sat himself next to the Second technician to try and calm him.  
  
“Rimmer … attempting to give yerself a haircut isn't gay. Anyway, you can't be gay, because you're crap at it.”  
  
Rimmer looked up at him, his eyes filled with hope and a silent pleading.  
  
“You think?”  
  
Lister shook his head in surprise. Rimmer was too weird sometimes.  
He looked at Rimmer's damaged hairdo again and felt sorry for those beautiful curls that the Second technician always lost the battle with. They were neither hideous nor unmanageable. They were pretty thickset auburn coloured curls that Lister always felt he would love to touch and style.  
Squinting at the raggedy do he suddenly hit upon an idea.  
  
“Smeg, Rimmer, I could fix this for you!!”  
  
Rimmer's head snapped up as he looked at Lister in surprise.  
  
“Fix what?”  
  
“Your silly barnet. I could make you look normal.”  
  
“You could?”  
  
“Well, no I can't work miracles, but I could make ya look less weird. Come sit in the light.”  
  
Rimmer must have felt he had nothing left to lose as he immediately set himself where Lister pointed him to and just let his bunkmate at it.  
Well, almost: the moment Lister placed himself behind him to put a hand on Rimmer's shoulder while he ran his other hand up his neck to assess the damage he felt Rimmer freeze beneath his touch immediately.  
  
“What?” Lister asked, pulling his hands away. “You think I'm infected or something?”  
“No … Of course not!!” Rimmer said as he looked up at him in surprise.  
“You know wha' I mean. Do me fingers smell or something? Is that it?” Lister made a big show of sniffing his hands. Rimmer cringed.  
“No, it's just …” He shrugged. “I guess it's been a long time since someone's touched me.” Rimmer closed his eyes and blushed. “Smeg. This day is just humiliating.”  
“Oh. Does it bother you? I mean, should I not touch you?”  
“No, no. It's okay. I mean … if you were a hairdresser it'd be the same? Right?”  
Lister shrugged: great, now he felt even more sorry for the smeghead. “I guess. It's all fine, Rimmer. Touching is good.”  
Rimmer nodded, his eyes seeming a little misty.  
Softly, as to not startle him again, the Scouser returned to putting his hand on Rimmer's shoulder and took to work. He combed, cut, gelled and sprayed and within fifteen minutes Rimmer's hair looked as close to normal as it could get. A bit flatter, a lot straighter, but normal.  
  
“That's … that's amazing!! Rimmer stuttered in complete dumbfounded surprise as he looked into the mirror Lister gave him. “Could … could you make me look like this tomorrow morning …?”  
  
Lister hesitated: he'd just gone into it without thinking. Did he really want to get up at the crack of dawn just to do his bunkmates hair?  
He noticed Rimmer was taking a deep breath, then looked up at him, a desperate look in his eyes.  
“Please?” Lister knew that must have cost him a lot. “I don't want Todhunter to …” Rimmer continued.  
“Hey ...” Lister cut him of. “Hey, you said 'please'. It's okay, I can't ignore that. I'll help ya until it's grown out, okay?”  
Rimmer nodded gratefully. “Thank you Lister.”

* * *

A shared secret, nothing can bond two people as much as that, even if it's something as silly as a messed up haircut.  
Every day since Lister's promise the two men had woken up at the crack of dawn, shared breakfast and then set to work. The first few days Rimmer was as stiff and awkward as he'd been that first night. But as the days progressed Lister could feel him grow more and more comfortable under his hand while he himself became more and more at ease in his presence. Soon he begun to notice that Rimmer had a sense of humour and they begun to share jokes and ship gossip about mutual enemies. As a fragile bond begun to form the pair even shared tales from their childhoods. Often these chats would last well into their shifts.  
Lister caught himself staying in a lot more, having lunches and dinners with Rimmer to continue their chats. He started to look forward to spending his time with his superior. As much as he enjoyed time with his friends, it was nice to talk to someone sober for a change. Also, Rimmer was one of the few people who didn't feel the need to constantly make jokes about his failed relationship with Kochanski, an added bonus.  
All the while he thought about what Rimmer had said about not having been touched in a long time. That sounded so sad; everyone deserved to touch and be touched. Maybe, when Rimmer was ready, he could hug him one day? That sounded like a plan. Lister was surprised he actually really liked the idea.

* * *

“Listy, wake up!!”  
Lister didn't know whether to be annoyed or smile: Rimmer had taken to their morning rituals with such a zest he kept waking him up at ever earlier times just to have more chat time.  
Running his hands through his bunkmates thick hair and feeling him melt into the touch he knew the right response was to smile. Rimmer had gone from stiffening when he as much as reached for his neck to eagerly sitting down and pressing his neck deeper into his hand.  
In eight weeks Dave Lister had overcome a massive barrier … So why did he then proceed to ruin it in as many seconds?

* * *

“Listy …” Rimmer slightly raised his head to smile up at Lister. “I was thinking … Maybe we could do pizza tonight? With curry on the side, if you like?”  
Lister didn't hear him, as he checked out Rimmer's new growth.  
“Hey, I think you can do your hair yourself again from now on, Arn!”  
The second Lister uttered these words a flash of black seemed to go through Rimmer's eyes as they visibly hardened.  
“What? Why? I thought you enjoyed doing this?” A slight tremble had entered his bunkmates voice and Lister felt alarm bells go off.  
“Oh, I'm not saying that I'm not Arn, it's just … Well … it's almost completely grown back now. Thought you'd like to do it yourself again?”  
The Second technician seemed to crumple into the chair.  
“But …” He hesitated. “I'm sure I still see a bit of skin here …”  
“Arnold, I swear, it's all grown back.”  
Rimmer jumped of the chair to face Lister, hazel eyes burning balefully.  
“You've got enough of me, that's what this is, isn't it? You don't want to do my hair, you never did. You just wanted to break my …” With a sharp intake of breath he cut himself of. “Well miladdo, let me tell you: I don't need your smegging hair trickery any-more. Don't think I'll ever trust you again!! It's over you hear me, over!!”  
Lister looked on in amazement as Rimmer got angrier and angrier. What had he said that was so wrong? Then there suddenly was that horrible feeling of realisation: the man had not just enjoyed but had desperately _needed_ these daily moments where he'd been touched without question. He had looked forward to them even. The touching, the talking. It was an excuse for feeling contact, for much needed human warmth. And he'd ruined it by saying he didn't need to do it any-more. He had taken away the excuse Rimmer needed to be touched. Now his newfound friend thought he'd never want to touch him again, that it was all over and he'd be abandoned again. Apparently Rimmer seemed to think it had been an act of pity, a chore. How could he make him see that he hadn't meant it like that? Why had he even said it? He had enjoyed doing his hair and their time together. Smeg how would he get to hug him now? He'd ruined his own plan!!  
He looked at the man shaking in front of him.  
“Arn, we can still …”  
“Don't you 'Arn' me!! It's Rimmer, you hear me? RIMMER!!”  
And with that he stormed out.  
Lister sighed and took the trolley: their shift was starting.

* * *

For the next hour they worked in silence, with Rimmer appearing rather hostile towards the Scouser. Lister hated this silence and decided he would think of something to make things right again with Rimmer: he needed Rimmer too: needed his friendship and conversation. He hated to see his bunkmate slowly close off from him, returning to being the insufferable pernickety fusspot he'd been before. Rimmer could be warm, funny, witty and kind. He now understood that most of the insufferable behaviour had been a front to stop himself from getting hurt.  
As he looked in the reflective surface of a food dispenser he saw Rimmer surreptitiously wrap his arms around himself with a dejected look on his face.  
_“Don't worry mate,”_ He thought. _“I'll get ya back and this time I'll hug ya whether you like it or not!!”_  
If Lister had only known it would be centuries before he'd finally be able to give him that much needed hug he would have pelted towards Rimmer and scooped him up right there and then. But he didn't, all he knew back then was that he'd build his trust again and touch him soon.  
But first things first: Lister needed to get Rimmer to talk to him again, before he could try anything else. Unfortunately there was only one sure-fire way he knew would guarantee a response.  
  
_“From Gannymede to Titan, yes sir, I've been around ...”_ He begun caterwauling loudly for the next ten minutes. On and on. Until …  
“Lister.”  
Ah!  
“Have you ever been hit over the head with a welding mallet?”  
  
Soon no-one could touch Rimmer ...

 


End file.
